I'll Tear Down These Walls for You
by Little-Miss-Rachel
Summary: Relationships are supposed to be about love and happiness. This one, on the other hand, isn’t.


_I'll Tear Down These Walls for You_

**Note:** Yeaaah... I wrote this story a long long long time ago. I mean, like, last year before I found out Chris Masters has been doing steroids. LOL. But I hope you all enjoy. It's not my best, but not everything can be the best, ya know? So... review, please!

Disclaimer: Again, like I've said forever, I don't own anyone or anything (especially the drug) in this one-shot. But Randy will be mine after July 2nd... Muahahahahahhahaha.

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Trish stood in front of the blue hotel room, her trembling hand reaching into her back pocket for the key card she was given the day she had checked in along with her current boyfriend, Chris Masters. She was late coming home from a party again, and she knew the price she'd pay. It was past midnight, and Chris had wanted her home by eleven. Trish almost dropped the key card as she slid it into the door, jumping at the click it made as it opened. She cautiously walked inside, seeing the light of the TV flickering. Behind her the door slammed shut and she spun around, seeing Chris standing there.

"Hey baby…" Trish said in a shaky voice. Chris' eyes were cold and demeaning as they pierced through her porcelain like skin.

"Don't you fucking 'hey baby' me you little whore! Why the hell weren't you home an hour ago!" He yelled, causing Trish to wince.

"I…I…" Trish started.

"You what!" Chris stepped forward and gripped her arm, his face merely inches from hers. Trish squeezed her eyes shut, trying to back away.

"There was traffic on the highway…" She said quickly. Chris smirked, shaking his head unbelievingly.

"There wasn't any fucking traffic, Trish. You were with him, weren't you! There was no fucking party! You went to his damn house and…" He backhanded the petite blonde across the face, glaring as she fell to her knees in pain. The coppery taste of blood filled Trish's warm mouth, causing her to spit.

"I… I wasn't with him…" She muttered, holding her reddening cheek. Chris pulled her to her feet by her hair and held her face close to his, all the while pulling her hair. Tears cascaded down Trish's face like a waterfall as his voice hissed into her ear.

"You're going to fucking pay, slut. I don't know how the hell you thought you were going to pull this God damned plan off but I found out about you and that cocky ass bastard and now, it's you who's going to pay," He then shoved her backwards into the wall. Trish had been accustomed to getting whipped around by her boyfriend. He always had a reason to hurt her, regardless of if she even went downstairs to get a cup of coffee. He'd still beat the living hell out of her, leaving Trish to gasp for breath and cry until she ran out and to her best friend's hotel room.

"You think you could pull it off, huh!" He yelled through clenched teeth, grasping her hair again. He pounded her head into the wall once, making Trish cry harder and almost black out at the impact at which he had thrown her head. She fell to the ground in the feeble position, holding the back of her head, whimpering.

"Stop…" She whispered hoarsely. She wanted to scream for someone, anyone to help her, but the door was locked and she had a feeling no one was up after midnight in the hotel except for the security that were stationed downstairs. Chris let out a sadistic laugh and kicked her in the stomach, making Trish's breath catch in her throat.

Trish's hands went to her stomach, leaving her head in open range for his pair of Nikes. He kicked her head, making her cry out. This only made him want to hurt her more. The more she whimpered and cried the more he'd beat her. He got down, backhanding her a few times across the face. Blood oozed from her nose and out of the corner of her mouth, telling him he'd done some good damage. With one last kick to the ribs he was done. Chris walked towards the bed and turned his head, looking at Trish. She wasn't moving, and he wasn't even that worried about trying to get her to move. In his mind he thought she got what she deserved. He knew that she'd never learn to stay away from his bad side, but he had fun whipping her around like a rag doll. He enjoyed it. Maybe too much. Smirking, he laid down and fell fast asleep, not worrying about the barely conscious diva lying on the floor.

NEXT DAY

"Hey, have any of you seen Trish? It's one, and you know how early she gets up," Amy Dumas asked the group that sat around the table in the hotel restaurant, eating lunch.

"She's probably with Masters," Her fiancé Adam Copeland replied.

"Plus, he probably had her up late last night yelling at her for not making it to her room on time…" Randy muttered. Jay, who was sitting to the right of Randy, gave him a confused look.

"What are you talking about? I thought she was in her room all night," Jay studied the younger man's face and his eyes widened slightly.

"You and her…" Randy looked to the others who were talking about their upcoming storylines and he looked back to Jay, nodding.

"Yeah…" He looked around the restaurant then back to the Canadian, sighing. "You have no idea what he does to her." He stated, taking a bite of his burger. Jay gave him an even more confused look.

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing… I'm not allowed to say anything," Randy retorted quickly, finishing his cheeseburger. He sent Jay a 'sorry' look and turned back towards the group. Jay stared at the St. Louis native, wondering what in the hell he was talking about.

TRISH'S ROOM

Trish rolled over on the floor, groaning in despair. She held her ribs tightly, tears slowly hitting the carpet. She cried and cried until she felt like nothing more could come out of her puffy, red eyes. Looking up towards the bed she noticed it was neatly made and Chris was no where to be found. Standing slowly, she unsteadily walked towards the bathroom. Once she flipped on the light switch she gasped at her reflection that stared back at her. Blood was dried in her hair and all over her face. She touched it, and cringed when she rubbed her hand over her cheek. She wet a washcloth with warm water and began to wipe the blood off gently. She knew how to take care of herself after a beating from Chris. Once the blood was gone she turned on the shower and stripped. Stepping into the steaming shower made her muscles relax, and she felt good.

Once out of the shower and dressed she began to apply heavy foundation to her face, trying to cover the nasty bruises she had received. Knowing that the one over her eye wouldn't be able to be covered up, she began to think up excuses. _That match with Victoria last night was brutal, and she punched me too hard. _Was the excuse she had come up with this time. Once her make up was applied and she thought she looked good, Trish walked into the living area of the hotel and sat down on the floor in front of the coffee table with a small bag in her lap.

"Here we go again…" She muttered, pulling out a small vial and unscrewing the lid. With one turn of the vial the white powder came rushing out of it onto the glass table. She cut the powder into thin lines and rolled up a twenty dollar bill. Putting the bill to her nose, she sniffed and ran the bill along the line of white powder. Sitting back, she shook her head and coughed slightly before leaning forward again. She placed the bill to her nose and sniffed along the line slowly. In mid sniff a knock rang through the hotel room, causing Trish to inhale too quickly and she began to cough. She hit her chest, sniffling slightly, and grabbed a magazine from the nearby rack and put it over the coke.

_Great, now I have to cut it again…. Who the hell is knocking on the damn door! _Trish thought angrily, wishing they'd just leave her alone. But the knocking only got louder, and she knew who it was at that moment. The pounding got harder, and she could have sworn she heard him kicking the door. Giving up on trying to hide, she opened the door slowly.

Once the door was open fully she was enveloped in a hug. She relaxed in his strong arms for a moment before walking inside slowly. Randy kicked the door shut behind him and released her from his embrace. With one look into her eyes he knew she had been doing coke again, and he knew she had been beaten.

"Baby, what'd he do this time?" Randy asked, sitting her on the couch. He kneeled at her feet and took her small hands in his large ones. The look that passed over her face was enough to break his heart. Tears cascaded down her face as she ducked her head, letting her blonde mane fall over her eyes.

"Look at me, Trish," Randy moved her head up to look at him gently and shook his head. "You have to leave him. He's abusing you, and I don't understand why you don't leave him," He gave her a confused look; the same look he always gave her when he stated this.

"He's the only one who loves me!" She cried, tears coming at a faster rate. Randy sighed and leaned closer to her, looking her square in the eye.

"Abuse isn't love, and he sure as hell doesn't love you if he's treating you this way!" He then paused and looked away for a moment then turned back to her, standing up.

"He does too! He's the only one who cares…" She retorted, watching him pace back and forth. Randy stopped in mid pace and turned to her again.

"He doesn't give a fuck about you! I care about you, Trish! I'm not the one who abuses you, or gives you the drug that you're practically addicted to!" Randy yelled angrily. He couldn't believe what was coming out of her mouth. Before she could speak he started again.

"And don't think that no one gives a damn, because I know of a shit load of people who care more than that dick ever will!" He took in a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves. "Chris is the one that hits you, not me. You come to me in the middle of the night with blood coming from different places on your body, and I help you! Don't you fucking get it! You're so wrapped up around getting coke from him that you can't see who really fucking cares!" Randy heaved a frustrated sigh and turned towards the crying woman.

"I'm sick of this shit… Don't come crying to me anymore about what he does to you because you're not drugged up when he does hit you and you know exactly what's going on. I don't understand you at all, Trish, and I guess I never will," Randy then turned and shoved the magazine off of the coke, causing it to fly everywhere.

"NO!" Trish cried, jumping up and running over to the table. She kneeled in front of it, looking for any remains of coke. Randy watched her, sighing deeply. He walked up behind her and helped her stand by her shoulders, turning her around.

"I can't break away…" Trish cried, burying her head into his chest. Randy held her, rubbing her back gently. No words needed to be said. Randy knew she couldn't beat her addiction alone, but he promised himself that he'd help her.

Randy looked down at her and kissed the top of her head. They stood there for what seemed like ever, him holding onto her. Trish's cried subdued, and she stopped shaking. Randy's head was rested on top of hers when she pulled away slowly. She looked up at him with puffy red eyes and Randy could see what she wanted. He shook his head, leaning down to kiss her gently. When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against hers.

"Not in here. Chris may come back, and he'll catch us," He whispered. Trish nodded slowly, fixating her eyes on the coffee table. That was her last jar, and Chris had said that she wasn't getting anymore for a long time. Tears built up in her hazel eyes again, and Randy wiped them away with the pad of his thumbs when they leaked from her eyes.

"He's not giving me anymore," She murmured. Randy felt like celebrating, until he saw the dead look in her eyes.

"Coke's not everything, baby. You don't need it to survive, and you don't need it to forget what's happening," Randy stated quietly, looking at the door. He had this feeling that on the other side Chris was standing there, listening to them.

"I just can't get away," She ducked her head again knowing that Randy was soon going to give up on everything.

"I can help you get away. There are people who can help you, Trish. I know you have a hard time letting new people in, but just try. They'd rather see you healthy and not beat up than beat up and sniffing coke everyday," Randy leaned down and looked up under her hair that had fallen over her face.

"Please? I love you, and I just want to see you happy," He gave her a pout, hoping she'd cave in. Trish turned her head away from him, though her eyes couldn't help but stay locked on his. Hearing and seeing that he cared so much made her want to leave Chris, but part of her just couldn't let go. Her addiction was too strong, and she knew he was the only one who could give her what she wanted.

"Randy…" Trish whined, lifting her head and stepping away from him. When she looked up at him the hurt look in his eyes made her want to die. His heart shone through his blue orbs, and the way he reached out and caressed her face made tingles go down her spine.

"Do it for me," He whispered. Trish closed her eyes, thinking it over. Biting down on her lip, she nodded reluctantly. Deep down inside she knew she wanted to, but coke was practically her life outside of the ring. Chris forbid her to leave the hotel room unless he was with her, or she was going shopping for food. Otherwise, it was her and the coke that kept her feeling good. For the most part.

Trish was snapped out of her thoughts when she felt his soft lips pressed against hers, and a small smile formed on her face. She kissed him back, her mind racing with thoughts of what they could possibly be doing if they were in his hotel room. Randy stepped back, his hands moving under her sweatshirt and to the bare skin on her stomach. Trish shivered at his touch.

"Can we go to your room?" She asked quietly. Randy smiled and rested his forehead against hers.

"This is our last day. I can ask Vince for a few more days off. Come with me…" He kissed her nose, and Trish's smile widened. The thought of Chris then popped into her head.

"But Chris…" She began.

"Leave him, babe. I'm here for you. I can help you through your withdrawal and I know people who will help you," He said in a confident tone. Trish looked around the room and wondered if it was a good decision. She walked away from Randy with her arms crossed across her chest.

"Randy, I'm ready to leave," Trish's voice was timid, but when she turned to look at Randy again there was an old fire in her eyes. The fire she had before she was with Chris. She threw everything she had into her suitcase and zipped it up as fast as she could.

"Leave him a note," Randy pointed towards a pad of paper lying on the bedside table. Trish gave him a frightful look.

"Randy, I can't. He'd find us," But the words didn't stop her from moving to the table and writing out:

_I'm gone. We're through. Don't come looking for me… I hate you, Chris, and I hope you rot in hell for what you've done to me. If you try to look for me, I will tell the police about the abuse. _

Randy picked up her suitcase while Trish took one last look around the room. She then grabbed Randy's warm hand. They walked to the door and Trish peered out, not seeing anyone coming. As soon as the door was closed they ran for the elevator which was about to close. They hurried inside when they saw who was in there.

"Randy, Trish, where are you guys headed to?" Jay asked with a raised eyebrow. Trish looked up to Randy and sighed.

"I'm leaving Chris…" She muttered. "He abused me, Jay."

"No! Trish… why didn't you leave sooner?" He inquired. Trish looked down.

"Call me later and we'll talk, Jay. I have to go…" She pulled Randy out of the elevator as soon as they reached the lobby.

"Are you comfortable with this?" Randy asked quietly. Trish nodded slowly. They walked to Randy's rental car where he placed her bags in the trunk and got in quickly.

"Do you know where Chris is at this time?"

"Most likely at the gym. He left me on the floor last night so I wouldn't know." Trish spat bitterly. Randy glared into the sunlight as the car drove away from the hotel.

"Trish, I'm going to help you beat this addiction. I'm going to make sure you get back to normal, and when you do, I'm going to marry you, okay?" Randy heard her gasp from beside him but he kept his cold eyes on the road.

"Okay," Trish said after a moment of silence. She was glad Randy was there to help her, and she wouldn't want anyone else to tear down the walls inside.


End file.
